Stage Random
by PeanutButterCracker
Summary: Ahhh, so here we have it, a spoof to make you scream and laugh, a romance of two Sues tales that are sure to make you squirm.


Author's Note: Soooo, it's not too funny in the first chapter, I'll admit it. It's really hard to make such dark insanity hilarious. That is, unless you have a dark sense of humour. ;D

Disclaimer: Yadda yadda yadda…we --my co-authoress and I-- dun' own any thing. Woot?

Chapter 1:

Broken, torn, scarred. I supposed all three of those pessimistic adjectives could accurately describe the scene. The opera house, still in shambles. Gross, dirty, unclean. No longer a place of light humoured amusement, but a twisted memory. Some thing that hurt any of the surviving workers, as well as any one who had ever seen it in its prime. Now, not only were those three words true to the building –for that is all it really was--, but also the ghost.

Oh yes, this 'man' --if you so choose to put it-- still roamed about in the ashes, mourning over the loss of his 'love'. The papers had been all too eager to print his death, claim him dead, a happy ending to a sad, sad, story. Oh, but one must think…is it really possible to kill a ghost? Truth is…no! Killing a ghost is impossible. It's dead. The task is accomplished. Oh, but what people don't realize is that they don't want to kill it…merely rid themselves of it. Now THAT is possible. Send the lonely spirit on to 'some place better'.

How would one do that? Ghosts are usually here for two reasons; by curse or some thing they never got to accomplish in life. Poor man, he had both to deal with. This man's desire: Love. Did he ever get it? No. A vital task never accomplished. This man's curse: That scarred face not even a mother could love! Well, no wonder he became a ghost. Now, how to cure him of such ailments?

Ah, the perfect girl. Simple, a lover who was taken with him for his personality, not his face. Some one to stick with him through thick and thin. A beautiful woman would suffice…a bit hypocritical, but true. It would remind him of every thing he was not. Why did he want to dwell on the thing that cursed him? The picture of innocence --for innocence would not have an ugly face-- would understand him. He, this deformed ghost, would get some one that drove the lust of many men, and she would choose him! Out of pure innocence and love, she would choose him. If such a beauty could love a monster, then not all the world was evil, was it?

Or maybe the perfect girl was not beautiful. Maybe she was just as ugly and deformed as he. Perhaps she knew all he went through. She would understand; she really would. Two sad people who've found each other, just to wallow in their misery. Oh, but it was together and not alone! Every one wants to be accepted to some extent. No one wants to be alone forever with constant rejection. Even if it is with one person and one alone, they are happy that some one appreciates them. Their life is no longer a waste.

Why not some boy? Some sad, confused, boy that would that would merely act on ignorance. It would be sad, nothing more than lust, but when it's the only thing you can get, why refuse it? Beggars cannot be choosers. Alas, I fear this would distort the happy ending he longed for terribly.

Not to mention children! Or at least, one child. What if what he needed was a little person to hug and love? Teach them all he knew and more. Such innocence accompanied children! They could be a ray of hope. Too bad they fear monsters more than humans. They don't even need to see one to know it is there. Erik, their father; the boogeyman. Not to mention, he couldn't house them properly. A child raised in darkness would only grow up to be as twisted as him. It would be cute for a while, but in the end, what good would come? To deprive a child of worldly contact is a most horrid thing! One recluse per opera house is enough.

So, this is how we find the man; completely miserable; a horrid wreck. Now, do not assume this is 'sob, sob, sob, woe is me' misery. The true definition of misery is: Mental or emotional unhappiness or distress. The most common is sad, but couldn't one also be miserable with insanity tugging at the back of their mind? Wouldn't that be enough to make one miserable?

Now that you know his current situation, let's look at what made him this way. A scarred face, a horrid child hood, a bad mother, living conditions, becoming a ghost, being played with by some 'sweet' soprano; one person can only endure so much heartbreak before they finally give in!

Needless to say, things were not going well. Not well at all. He had become a ghost. Why? Shadows could hide many things. He had created his domain so he could play with all the little puppets who had once laughed at him. He could make them miserable! Ah, how sweet revenge is. Oh, but one puppet he really, really wanted; that accursed girl who broke him even more.

Had he loved her? Honestly, probably not. Needed her? I suppose. Want her? Oh, yes, but keep going. Obsess? Bingo. He had obsessed too much over this young girl. His mistake; giving every thing he had to her. His will, his inspiration, his heart. She had left him after being burdened with all of this! Now what did he have? Music? HA! People can love music, but does it love you back? Nope.

Let's stay in 'now'. The past is --oh so-- very bad for this man. Too many bad memories and not enough good ones. Now…what makes him happy _now_? This may sound funny, but he really likes people to squirm --A ha ha!--. Why not live up to his monstrous title? Why not make people fear him more? This he could control! He could control whether some one lived or died. He could even take it one step further and decided how they were going to die. Strangulation seemed to be popular. Pull the rope taught until all breath stopped, until all accusing words ceased, until every limb went limp with death. That would show them. Or perhaps they could get a nice tan in his torture chamber. Squirming was fear. Fear was some thing the mind chose. Would it fear this or would it fear that? Sanity can be terribly fun to mess with! People had seemed not to care that they mentally broke this man. Once more, I do point out too much heart break. Too much terrible heart break for one person to endure….they simply snap!

So here is the man, simply sitting in a corner of an unoccupied room. He was there because he could be. Why not loom in a bigger room, like the auditorium? It would be the most common place for some one to be wandering in. No, there shouldn't be any one wandering, but that didn't stop any of the too curious minds. It could have posed as some amusement for this man to spook them a bit, but he wasn't quite feeling up to it. Just sit and think…fume about every thing.

"WHY," such a question of simplicity, so vague. "Was it really that bad? So bad…just to look at? Oh, but that's hypocritical. It really is scary…that face. So horrid. It really is. Really! That's why it is so bad to look. Then again, it really isn't that bad when one lives with it every day." Talking to himself! How…odd. Well, when you are your own company for so many years, I suppose it doesn't seem too bad. Just small conversation; space fillers! Or, perhaps it was reassurance. Speaking proved that he still was there…sort of. Now more, an apparition doomed to wander, than a man. _Truly a ghost_!

Lolling his head to the side, a light thud rattled through the room as he let his head drop back and hit the wall. What if he didn't stop at that? Keep going…another knock. Nope, don't stop. Keep on, until the low thud became a horrid BOOM, rattling his brain, scattering thoughts. WHAT DID IT MATTER? Every one thought he was dead. SMASH! Perhaps hit his head where the constant head-ache lingered. Keep on, until his skull began to bleed and bones began to crack or splinter. Go unconscious and ultimately bleed to death. What if he DIDN'T STOP? Alas, just a light thud would suffice for the moment. That really would be a horrid way for the ghost to go out.

Hours passed, and he still sat, content in that room. Nothing could bother him; break him from his train of thought. No one would be able to find the random room he chose to pass the day in. At least that meant no one would die. Soon enough, he had to move, his muscles twitching a bit from the sudden change. I wouldn't be surprised if a small layer of dust had settled itself on him.

For a while, this ghost slunk about down various halls, nothing better to do. Music…no inspiration. Really, there wasn't even any more inspiration to go on. Just the simple fact that he wasn't dying was why he still moped. A horrid breath drawn, one after another, keeping his heart beating, enabling him to endure the torture of another day. Why wouldn't the Grim Reaper just come and drag him away? Did it too fear his face?

"Erik is dead."

Not a lie. Erik was dead. Dead to the world, dead to anything real, dead in every aspect except for one. The one in which he still breathed, still moved, still talked. More…an empty shell now. Perhaps Erik needed to wake from this long slumber. Perhaps he needed to stretch his spidery fingers and set his mind into another wonderful frenzy as a life slipped away. Why not let old habits rise from the grave? He could still haunt the empty opera house. Spook anyone who wandered in. Well, his mindset had changed dramatically from what it had been before! Now he wanted to scare, kill, torture. Too much time alone lets the most brilliant ideas creep into one's mind! Let his terror reign once more….his very name drenched in blood. Just uttering it would bring terror! If he couldn't have love, why not fill the void with screams of agony!

Erik is dead!

MU HA HA.

Co- Author's note: Gosh, you probably scared them off now, before we even got our message across! Well I guess that is how it goes. Without reviews, this will go on –and I quoth the raven-- nevermore.


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